


Blending With the Light

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-16
Updated: 2006-06-16
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sequel to Merging With The Shadows





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Blending With the Light _**II. BLENDING WITH THE LIGHT (Supernatural D/S)**_  
 **Title:** Blending With The Light  
 **Author:** Shorts  
 **Pairings/Character:** Dean/Sam  
 **Rating:** NC17  
 **Category:** Slash  
 **Word Count:** 2111  
 **Spoilers:** A little for "Shadow".  
 **Note** Sequel to [Merging With The Shadows](http://shorts7.livejournal.com/27381.html#cutid1). I hope I'm finally past my aggravation with Sam for hurting Dean. At least until the next time.  
  
  
BLENDING WITH THE LIGHT  
By Shorts  
  
  
Sam clung hard to Dean's back, his weight anchoring him as he rode out his orgasm. The silence was broken only by the harsh breathing in his ear, and he could feel small tremors shaking Dean. He couldn't say exactly what it was, but he felt like Dean was just out of reach, despite being pressed into the mattress by him. He never feared rejection from him when they came together, for when they did, it was evident Dean needed him just as much. Yet he felt a change in his brother ever since Chicago, a pulling away that he couldn't name.  
  
Dean bit back the shaky sigh of resignation and despair that struggled to escape, and his heart shattered a little more. He was on the path to hell, with no exit ramps to escape it. Each touch, every kiss and caress, reminded him what he was going to eventually lose. Silently, he rolled off of Sam and curled on his side.  
  
Needing the contact with Dean to last, Sam spooned behind him, holding him close. Dean had always kept a tight reign on himself, rarely allowing himself the freedom to truly express joy or sorrow. But lately he'd been even more restrained with his emotions and feelings.  
  
Sam woke in the twilight hours of morning and noticed Dean wasn't in bed with him. Glancing quickly around the room, he spotted him, appearing as a shadow outlined by the window. "Dean?"  
  
Dean turned, looking over his shoulder. "Yeah?"  
  
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"Just watching shadows, Sammy," said Dean, and he made his way back to bed. Lately he didn't sleep much, and when he did, he dreamed of his time without Sam and how it would be once again.  
  
Sam didn't understand what he meant, but the dead of night was not the time for questions. He curled against Dean's side when he was once again lying beside him, his growing concern hidden by the darkness of the room.  
  
*  
  
Dean sat at the small, round table, nursing his beer, staring at nothing. They had been traveling aimlessly for two weeks, keeping on the move to avoid too many questions. Their injuries were practically healed and soon they'd be hunting again. At least then he'd have something to occupy his mind and distract him from the uncertain future that lay ahead of him.  
  
Sam had gone to see if he could rustle up something to eat other than peanuts and pretzels. Dean ignored the curious stares that the fading scratches on his face brought, and knew that Sam was getting more than his fair share of attention. Actually, sporting such battle wounds tended to keep the local yahoos at a distance, which suited him just fine.  
  
A shiver ran down his back as he felt the shadows waiting patiently to possess him like a dark, cruel lover. He had escaped that existence once when Sam had returned to him, but he knew next time there would be no deliverance from its cold embrace. Simply because when Sam walked away, there would be no coming back.  
  
Absent mindedly spinning his empty bottle of beer, Dean contemplated how he was going to survive what seemed to him, inevitable. Sam was both his strength and his weakness, a very dangerous combination.  
  
Sam weaved his way back to Dean, balancing four hot dogs in one hand, two beers in the other, and two bags of chips were clenched in his teeth. He carefully set everything down and sat across from his brother. "It isn't the greatest, but it sure as hell beats the stale nuts."  
  
Dean reached over and exchanged his empty bottle for a full one and half heartedly peeled back the foil on his hot dog. He forced himself to eat, not tasting any of it. The initial transition to not feeling was the hardest, but as the numbness settled in, it got easier.  
  
Studying his brother, Sam could sense the barrier keeping him out had grown stronger since Chicago. Dean's usual protective shields never had much effect on him and he could get past them without too much difficulty. This one was new to him, but he had the impression that it wasn't new to Dean. It fit him too well, forming to him as though tailor made. He leaned his chair back and slowly ate his chips, contemplating this new obstacle. To be honest, it worried him. This wasn't a Dean he knew or understood.  
  
Dean could feel Sam's scrutiny, and it started to wear on him. "Have I just grown horns or something?" he snapped, pushing his half empty bag of chips across the table.  
  
Sam brought his chair forward, the front legs slamming on the floor. "You look tired," was all he could think to say.  
  
"Haven't been sleeping that well," said Dean, up ending his beer and finishing it.  
  
"Then why don't we call it an early evening and head back to the motel?" suggested Sam, trying to figure a way to side step this impenetrable wall.  
  
Dean shrugged and stood, pulling his jacket off the back of his chair. He made his way through the growing crowd and stepped outside. He barely noticed the dropping temperature, as his world was becoming a dark and cold place.  
  
Sam followed him out, hunching his shoulders against the slight breeze that kicked up. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paused behind Dean.  
  
Slipping on his leather jacket, Dean headed for the car, his attention on the ground in front of him.  
  
They rode in silence. Each lost in their own thoughts. Conversation was still non existent as they entered the motel room.  
  
Unable to get a purchase on Dean's mood, Sam finally broke the silence. "We can't go on like this."  
  
"Like what?" asked Dean, taking off his boots and socks.  
  
"This distance between us," said Sam. "We've got to deal with it. It's like you're here, but not here. That some part of you has left and is being replaced by someone I don't know."  
  
Dean had removed his shirt, and now he paused, his hands resting on the snap to his jeans. "Have you thought that maybe the distance is there for a reason?"  
  
Sam let out a grunt of disbelief. "What kind of reason could there be?"  
  
Dean bent his head forward, unable to find the words that Sam would understand. Twice he had tried, and twice he had failed. "My own."  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" demanded Sam, in a sudden flash of anger. Anger stemming from his fear that Dean was quietly slipping away and that he was helpless to stop him. "I'm tired of short, vague answers from you. You act like I'm not here, even when I'm standing right in front of you."  
  
Dean only shook his head and climbed under the covers.  
  
"Don't shut me out, Dean," begged Sam, immediately regretting his words. The best way to make Dean shut down was to demand answers on something he didn't want to discuss. "I need you too much for you to do that."  
  
"No you don't," answered Dean, punching his pillow and rolling over. "You'll do just fine."  
  
"Damn it, Dean!" Sam hated how completely Dean could separate himself from any situation, it was like he wasn't even in the same damn room.  
  
Dean squeezed his eyes shut, praying Sam wouldn't come immediately to him. All it would take would be a single touch to shatter him. He needed a little time to control how he was feeling and to shelter his heart.  
  
Sam took a tentative step toward him, then stopped. Dean had once accused him of never saying or doing anything without meaning it. Well, it went both ways. He sat down heavily on the opposite bed, his gaze locked on Dean's back, thinking. He had thought things had been resolved between them that night after they left Chicago, but maybe it had only been wishful thinking on his part.  
  
It hurt him to turn away from Sam, but it would kill him if he didn't. Just when he believed Sam had decided to leave him in peace, he felt the bed dip behind him. He sighed in surrender to his own weakness and turned over. He opened his arms and enveloped him, giving comfort where there was none for him.  
  
"I'm not like you and Dad," said Sam, burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck and hugging him tight.  
  
Dean tightly closed his eyes, swallowing back the knot in his throat.  
  
"I had told you I didn't want things to be the way they were again . . ." started Sam, shifting to get as close as possible to Dean.  
  
"You made that pretty clear," said Dean, lifting his chin and blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.  
  
"When I said that, I was remembering the last time I had seen Dad and how we parted," Sam tried to explain. "I can't go back to blindly doing what he tells me to do, Dean. I have a right to make my own decisions."  
  
"Never said you didn't," said Dean, running his fingers through Sam's hair, trying to memorize as much as he could before everything was gone.  
  
"But when I saw him again, I no longer felt like I was fourteen and waiting for his approval," admitted Sam. "I miss him."  
  
"So do I," said Dean, trailing his fingers along the soft skin behind Sam's ear. "But it has to be this way for now. He'll be back, it might take a little while, but he will be."  
  
"What about you? Are you coming back?" asked Sam, lifting his head and looking at Dean.  
  
Dean licked his lips, looking at a spot just over Sam's shoulder.  
  
Sam waited patiently, knowing as long as Dean didn't bolt from the bed, he wasn't shutting him out.  
  
"What is there for me to come back to, Sam?" Finally asked Dean, unable to hide the pain in his eyes.  
  
"Me," answered Sam. "Come back for me."  
  
"For how long?" asked Dean, looking directly at him. "A month? Two? Maybe a year? How long before I lose you?"  
  
"Dean," said Sam, "I could lose you tomorrow. We don't know what is going to happen."  
  
"I'm not talking about a freakin' accident, or a hunt going bad," said Dean. "I know that when we finally track the bastard down responsible for Mom and Jess, you're history."  
  
"I'm not sure what I want," admitted Sam.  
  
"You seemed pretty damn sure before," pointed out Dean, not sure he could take this. Afraid to believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't lost after all.  
  
"I was telling you the truth. I don't want things to be the way they were when we were all together," said Sam. "But after seeing Dad . . . things might be different."  
  
Dean held his breath, waiting to discover what his fate was to be.  
  
"I told you before, I can't make promises of what will happen tomorrow, or of the days that will follow, because I don't know," said Sam, moving on top of Dean. "But what I do know without any doubt, is I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Dean blinked, at first unsure he had heard correctly, then Sam smiled and he knew that Sam was telling the truth.  
  
"We're in this together, no matter what happens," said Sam, darting down and kissing Dean lightly on the lips.  
  
After weeks of denying himself to feel, that simple kiss seared him to his soul. He rose up, wrapping Sam in his arms and rolled, trapping him underneath. He hoped this time Sam would hear him. "I've never admitted to needing anyone, but I need you, Sam. I need you to keep me whole."  
  
Sam cupped the back of Dean's neck and pulled him down, sealing their lips together. He could feel the relieved weariness radiating from him. Washing over him was a sense that some battle had just been won, and Dean himself had been at stake.  
  
Dean broke the kiss, resting their foreheads together with his eyes closed before slipping off to the side and settling next to Sam.  
  
"I think we should get some sleep," said Sam, taking in the tired lines around Dean's eyes and mouth. "We've goofed around long enough. We've got some hunting to do." Shifting onto his side, he wiggled back against Dean.  
  
Wrapping Sam in his arms, Dean held him tight as they spooned together. His world seemed brighter, the shadows fainter, as he blended with the light that was his brother.


End file.
